


Montague or Die

by Doitlikeagreaser



Category: A Midsummer Night's Dream - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Mercutio Lives (maybe), Near Death, References to Shakespeare, Secret Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:34:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21577651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doitlikeagreaser/pseuds/Doitlikeagreaser
Summary: After the duel with Tybalt, Benvolio carries the dying Mercutio into the woods. Determined and near grief-struck, he lets something slip and small speculations of the future are made.
Relationships: Demetrius/Lysander (Midsummer Night's Dream), Mercutio/Benvolio Montague
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Montague or Die

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting this for a friend once again. Constructive feedback is much appreciated!

Benvolio laid his bleeding friend on the ground at the base of a tree, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. Mercutio had been talking the whole way into the woods about something, but Benvolio had been too focused on getting into the woods without getting seen by many people to recall.

Mercutio looked up at him, grinning. “Hey, I always said Montague or die, and, seeing that I am not a Montague, makes sense that I should be the one of us who goes.”

Benvolio pushed his friend's hair away from his face, sniffing. Mercutio, by far, was Benvolio's favorite person to cry around. He didn't pick on Benvolio for it, just ignored it, which was what Benvolio wanted. “Don't talk like that. You shouldn't die.” He looked around the forest sadly. “I hate fighting. All it does is hurt the people I care about,” he groaned, “If it was allowed, you could've been a Montague.”

Mercutio raised an eyebrow. “Are you proposing?” 

Benvolio peeked at his face. Other than looking like he was about to see the face of death, Mercutio looked happy. “I suppose I am.”

His friend tried to sit up, then coughed and sank back. “I need a couple of small bendy twigs.”

Benvolio got the twigs from not too far away. “Why do you need them?” he asked, supporting his dying friend's head on his lap, even though he was still crying. “Try not to cough blood on me. Please.”

Mercutio covered his own face with one hand. Even though he was dying, he said in a quite loud voice, “We gather here this afternoon to celebrate the union of these two souls.”

While Mercutio was coughing, Benvolio asked, “What're you doing?” 

“You proposed, so I'm trying to get us married,” Mercutio explained, “My hand's the veil, since the bride takes the man's name usually.”

“So you'll be a Montague too?” Benvolio said, a little excited, if he was honest.

Mercutio nodded and continued in his loud voice, “Do you, Benvolio Montague, take this mistake of a bride to be your lawfully wedded wife, to care for him in sickness and in health, for as long as you live?”

Benvolio smiled through his tears and laughter, taking the hand Mercutio offered him. This wonderful man was on the brink of death, but still trying to run his own wedding in the forest to make his partner laugh. He couldn't get much better than that. “I do.”

”And do you, Mercutio, take this positively wonderful groom to be your lawfully wedded husband, to care for him in sickness and in health for as long as you live?” Mercutio asked himself in the loud voice, then in his regular whisper replied, “Yes. Yes I do.”

He handed Benvolio one of the twigs, and bent his into a small circle then threaded it onto his partner's left ring finger like a ring. Benvolio copied, trying to ignore the blood that Mercutio had spilt for the last ten minutes on the ground and onto himself. 

Mercutio said again in his loud voice, “I now pronounce you husband and wife! You may kiss the bride!” He promptly began to cough. 

Benvolio held onto him, and by the time he was able to settle down, Mercutio barely had the breath to speak. Benvolio held him close to his face so he didn't have to speak loudly. His husband--or in his terms, wife--smiled weakly. “Only in death do we part,” he said softly.

Benvolio gave him a quick kiss on the lips, still crying silently. “I love you.”

Mercutio tried to sit up, and was fairly successful. He rested himself against a tree. “So now, we are married.”

“But there were no witnesses,” Benvolio pointed out. “So it's not really legal.”

His wife rolled his eyes. “Of course someone like you would be worried about it not being an official marriage because there weren't any witnesses when the marriage hasn't even been consummated.” 

Benvolio flushed red, staring at his lap. “The woods is not the place for that,” Benvolio laughed softly, holding Mercutio tightly and burying his face in his hair. 

“Where do you want to go for a honeymoon, my love?” Mercutio whispered, reaching to touch his new husband's face gently. 

“I don't know, where do you want to go?” Benvolio asked him, stroking his hair.

“Somewhere that'll recognize a squirrel as a witness for a forest wedding,” said Mercutio with a laugh, seeming stronger. 

“Somewhere we can be really married?” Benvolio asked excitedly. “For real? Not made up?”

Mercutio looked at him incredulously. “What that wasn't real? That was all real love. Well, at least I meant it.”

“I meant it too,” Benvolio assured him, then looked around. “Where are we?”

“Well, you were the one who was carrying me while was bleeding out,” Mercutio replied, tugging his doublet up to check himself. His side was a bloody mess, and Benvolio had to look away. “There's a place somewhere near here that I heard about, that had started recognizing our kind of marriage. They just let these two men get married.”

“Really? What happened?” Benvolio asked, lying down next to Mercutio.

“It was such a weird story. They had apparently been going for the same girl as their cover story because they liked each other, but then somehow there was a whole weird thing that involved her friend, then the men got a truth potion and they admitted to everything, and the Duke of Athens--his name's Theseus--legalized their union.” Mercutio shrugged. “My uncle brought me to Athens once on a trip and I met them. They're a bit older than us, but they're nice. Demetrius and Lysander love each other just as well as any other couple, maybe even more.”

“I wish you weren't dying so we could go there,” Benvolio said softly, resting his head on his love's chest, listening to the soft thumping of Mercutio's heart.

“ Actually, I feel pretty good,” Mercutio replied, stretching, then wincing. “Well, I shouldn't have done that, but I think I could.”

“That's going to hurt a lot,” Benvolio warned him, but consented to pulling him off the ground. 

Mercutio flopped into his arms, giving him another kiss. “I would go through any amount of pain for you.”

Benvolio smiled, holding his new wife tightly in his arms.


End file.
